Last Night Alone
by afinalchaotic
Summary: Maydra Alexandra Valentine has never met her parents. She doesn't blame her mother. But she does blame her father. a fanfic by afinalchaotics friend.


The first chapter of the new fic I was talking about. R&R please.

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My name is Maydra Alexandra Valentine, and at the age of fifteen, I have never met my parents.

I don't blame my mother.

I can't.

Yuffie Kisaragi is in the comatose unit at Mercy Hospital. She has been sense the day I was born. I was nearly the death of her. But according to my adoptive mother, Tifa Strife, she was too stubborn to let the Grim Reaper steal everything from her. Her husband, her friends, her little girl. She was in critical condition for days, and just when the doctors said that Yuffie Kisaragi would survive, she went into a self induced coma. The small, attractive woman used the same iron will that had saved her life to freeze herself.

They say that there is normal brain activity, and that she could wake up at any time. But she doesn't. I remember coming to her room every Sunday as a child, accompanied by Tifa and Cloud, and occasionally their daughter Kaiya and son Denzel. I would stare at her face for hours, hoping with all my desperate little heart that her eyes would open, and she would see her little girl. That she would grab me and hug me tight. We would live happily ever after. But then as I got older, I realized something. When she woke up, I would be there. I would still be her little girl. But she would remember that I was the little girl who had nearly killed her. Yuffie Kisaragi would reject her daughter. "You tried to kill me" she would say, and leave. Leave and be with Daddy, wherever he was. And they would have another child, a sweet little girl who didn't try to kill her mother.

I still visit her every Sunday, but I am rarely accompanied anymore. I arrive in the morning and leave just before dawn on Monday. The child in me wishes she would wake up and love me, while me, the me of now, tries to play it cool. Tries to be like those girls you always see on T.V. They look so soft when they cry, so sad when they smile, and so perfect when they sit, staring at the person they love most. But there is a fatal difference.

I am real, and my pain is real. I am not designed for this world, but for one who actually gives a damn.

They are bits and pieces of societies standards, and they feel nothing. They are but corporate Barbies, play toys for the rich and powerful Kens.

I do blame my father.

I will forever.

I have never met Vincent Valentine. I have never seen pictures. But when I was little, every night I would ask Cloud to describe him to me, so that If I saw him on the street I could run to him. Run to him and say, "Its me Daddy! Im here, you don't have to look anymore!". He would sweep me up into his arms and cover me with kisses like Cloud did to Kaiya and Denzel. But he wouldn't. Every night Cloud would say the same thing. "Vincent was different, honey. He was tall and pale, with red eyes like yours. He talked slow and carefully, thinking each word over before it came out of his mouth. He loved you and your mother very much. Now go to sleep, honey."

He vanished into thin air when my mother had complications. Tifa says that he loved us. But I don't believe her. If he loved us, why did he run? Why did he leave me to watch my mother cling to life by a thread, then shut herself down because of the pain? I have never felt love. I have never been loved. Sure, I had the love of Tifa and Cloud, but it wasn't the same. It was never the same. I would watch Kaiya make cookies with Tifa, or play airplane with Cloud, and wish I could that with my parents. I tried to help Tifa and Kai once. Only once. The smell of cookies was sweet, and the feeling of love was thick in the air. Mother and daughter giggled and smeared chocolate on each others faces while the small, dark haired girl watched, her eyes full of longing.

From that day on I associated cookies with love. I made my parents some cookies and left them by her bed, hoping that she would realize that I loved her and wake up, and he would come back.

But it never happened.

And it never will.

I am Maydra Alexandra Valentine, and at the age of fifteen, I have never met my parents.

And I probably never will.


End file.
